Baby’s Bris Without His Father: A Story of Faith and Gratitude

Nothing could have prepared Daniel Jarad, 33, and his wife Mor, 28, for what happened just two days before the bris (circumcision) of their firstborn son. On a Friday afternoon, just before Shabbat began, Daniel collapsed without warning. Their six-day-old baby was crying—and those cries soon mixed with the sound of ambulance sirens.

Mor, a brand new mother, watched in fear as her husband was rushed to the hospital, unconscious and struggling to breathe. For the next three days, Daniel remained sedated and on a respirator in intensive care at Ichilov Hospital. While his doctors fought to save him, his baby’s bris went on—without a father to hold or bless him.

Daniel had struggled with asthma since childhood, but this attack came suddenly and without enough time to treat it. “I felt like I was suffocating,” he recalls. “Then I blacked out. I don’t remember anything until I woke up on Sunday afternoon. I was in the ICU surrounded by people. It was shocking. The first thing I asked was whether the bris had taken place.”

It had. And while it was difficult to miss such a deeply meaningful moment, Daniel and Mor accepted it with love. “We saw it as Hashem’s mercy,” Daniel says softly.

The experience changed his life. “In one second, your whole world can turn upside down. Nothing should be taken for granted,” he reflects. “Before this happened, I used to stress about so many little things. But when you come that close to returning your soul to the Creator, you suddenly realize how much good there is to be thankful for.”

Daniel’s recovery didn’t happen instantly. At first, he couldn’t even get out of bed. “Even though I was so happy to wake up, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to walk again,” he shares. But with Hashem’s help, within two days he was on his feet—and filled with a sense of purpose and gratitude.

“When I finally held my baby after the bris, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I’ll never forget that moment.”

As Daniel lay in the hospital, something incredible was happening outside the walls of the ICU: thousands of Jews across the country were praying for him. Friends, neighbors, and strangers joined together in heartfelt tehillim (Psalms), dedicated Torah learning, and acts of kindness. “My name was passed around in so many WhatsApp groups,” he says. “From north to south, Jews were praying for me.”

He recalls how his Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) neighbors in Bnei Brak organized prayers over Shabbat in local shuls (synagogues). “I live in a building with religious families, and they didn’t just say ‘we’re sorry’—they acted. They walked from Bnei Brak to Tel Aviv just to give updates to my wife. It was a huge kiddush Hashem—a sanctification of God’s name.”

Daniel and Mor became more observant in recent years, and their appreciation for the warmth and unity of religious communities has only grown stronger. “We were amazed. Even now, weeks later, people still offer to help—with food, with errands, with the baby. This is the beauty of the Jewish people.”

Once Daniel was strong enough, he asked to meet the Hatzalah (emergency volunteer) medics who saved his life. Itzik Benziman, one of the volunteers, remembers: “He was in severe respiratory failure, unconscious. We started immediate respiratory support. It’s rare that you know you’re truly saving a life—but this was one of those times.”

Seeing Daniel healthy again was deeply moving for the medics. “Moments like that strengthen your faith and fill your heart,” Itzik says. “We saw a real miracle.”

For Daniel, every breath he takes now is a reminder of Hashem’s kindness. He studies Torah full-time in a kollel (a center for Torah learning), and after this experience, he values that privilege more than ever. “When you realize how short life can be, you stop complaining about small things. You start noticing the blessings. Studying Torah, keeping mitzvot (commandments)—these are privileges, not burdens. Hashem gave me life as a gift, and I want to use it well.”

Today, Daniel walks down the street like anyone else. But inside, everything is different. “Life is so precious,” he says. “Let’s use it with joy. And above all—let’s thank Hashem, every single day.”